


Headfirst for Halos

by violetlolitapop



Series: Bullets [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: because of course it is, i started writing this in maybe early 2010, imagine a high school circa 2006 cos that's probably what i was basing it off of when i started it, it's also a high school au, this song is about suicide and so is this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 03:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetlolitapop/pseuds/violetlolitapop
Summary: And now these red ones make me fly, and the blue ones help me fall, and I think I'll blow my brains against the ceiling.





	Headfirst for Halos

Ivan Braginsky, at 17 years old, has a lot of things on his mind. And there really is no better time do it than during his lunch break, especially since he spends the entire alone. In an abandoned part of the school. Far away from where anyone else. Like usual.

But anyway, yes, he has a lot on his mind. Besides wondering every now and again how it got to the point where he is  _ always _ eating lunch on his own, there’s the thought that crosses his mind as to why there would be a vending machine here that no one goes to. Although that could be because it doesn’t carry very popular flavors of soda, and it’s a notorious money eater.

There’s also the thoughts about his broken home; his demanding father, his ill-treated mother, his estranged elder sister, and the younger sister that has this  _ inexplicable _ attachment to him that borders on insane. He thinks about his classes - the overdue science project, the missing homework from history, and the last test he took that is sure to come back to him with a failing grade because he didn’t fill in half of the answers.

Usually whenever he does think about school things, it goes back to how he’s failing his gym class. That’s embarrassing to say the least, and it’s not even for anything like being unable to participate. He just refuses to change into his gym clothes. It’s either they let him play in his uniform, or they let him keep his scarf on, but it’s something that he will not budge on.

(They keep asking for a reason they should let him wear it.)

(He’ll never tell them.)

(They don’t deserve to know.)

At this moment though, the only thing on his mind is his lunch. To be specific, it’s about his water bottle. To be even more specific, it’s about the expiration date that’s printed on the water bottle.

An expiration date.

On water.

There is an actual date on this bottle that claims it will no longer be good for drinking and that is just absolutely bizarre. Like, how could that even be possible? Well, he supposes, in this country…

He’s in the middle of debating whether or not he should just chug it before he chokes on the dryness of his sandwich when he hears someone coming along. It doesn’t call his attention at first, there really isn’t anyone that special in this school that could get him to pay attention, and it’s not like anyone actively  _ wants _ his attention anyway, so why bother? When the other person starts to whistle, though, that’s when he isn’t able to ignore them, curiosity gets the better of him.

(Human nature and all that.)

(A tragedy.)

It turns out to be Alfred Jones, the legend himself. Everyone knows him, Ivan is no exception to the fact. Everyone loves him, Ivan is a semi-exception to the fact. He’s loud, he’s rude, he’s crass, and too bold for his own good. But he is a good student, he is clever and smart, and a very good athlete. He’s also really good looking, and that doesn’t hurt. You could light up the entire school with one of Alfred’s laughs. Although that could just border on annoying sometimes....

Not like it really matters, honestly. He completely ignores Ivan when he passes him, and that’s usually the case. And it’s not like Ivan isn’t used to that, so he just goes back to his water bottle. That won’t ignore him.

Although, it still might kill him. Not too sure about that yet.

Alfred’s whistling dies down to a loud hum as he scans the drinks available to him. Ivan twists the cap off of his bottle and takes a sniff at it. A riveting lunch hour scenario.

Ivan takes a small sip (tastes normal… oh, god, what if all water is actually perishable?) when he hears it. The Devastation.

(Another reason why nobody comes to this machine, it never takes a bill. And if it does, it’s gonna eat it up and you’ll never see it again.)

The infamous sounds of rejection and the frustration of flattening out a dollar bill against the edges of the machine, only to be rejected again with the loud whirring of the machine spitting it back out.

“What the fuck,” he hears Alfred say softly. And again, goes on to trying to flatten the bill as much as humanly possible.

This is going to be too sad to watch soon if he doesn't put a stop to it.

“It won’t take bills,” Ivan tells him, and wow, does his voice sound odd after being quiet for so long.

But it doesn’t seem like Alfred notices that. Instead he jumps a little, like if he hadn’t noticed Ivan sitting on the floor just off to the side before, and yeah, that also makes sense.

“What’s that?” he asks. 

“I said it doesn’t take bills. Or, I guess it will, but you’ll never see it again when it finally does.”

Alfred looks at the machine. “Isn’t that kinda the point?”

“Yeah, if you were gonna get something in return.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A riveting conversation.

Ivan clears his throat. It sort of helps. “It’s better if you use change.”

Alfred doesn’t reply.  Instead, he rummages around in his pockets: first his jacket, and then his pants. When he comes up with nothing, he drops his bag to the ground and starts to rummage through that. Ivan watches with mild fascination, there's so much stored in there - two binders, a manilla folder, a history book, just a stack of paper, pencil cases, a stapler, a book with the cover missing, 3 cds, and a screwdriver.

That one is the most interesting, but Ivan isn't sure if one conversation about a vending machine is enough to ask about it.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Alfred mutters and pulls out a handful of coins from somewhere. 

He counts them out and swears. He counts them again, and swears again. He does it again for a third time and now its just getting sad again.

“How much do you need?” Ivan asks him.

“Huh?”

“How much do you need?”

“Oh.” Why does he look so surprised? “I need ten cents more.”

“Hold on,” Ivan tells him and reaches into his pants for a second. He pulls out a few coins of his own, and luckily among the few pennies is a single dime. “Here you go.”

He holds it out for Alfred to take, but the other boy seems hesitant for whatever reason.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“It's a dime, I don't care.”

Alfred laughs a little. “Well, if you're sure.”

He takes the dime from Ivan's fingers, and Ivan pretends that he hasn't been so touch starved that a single brush of the other's fingers sends a jolt through his body.

“Thanks!”

“Anytime.”

And that should be the end of it.

Except it isn’t.

Even after Ivan has gone back to his water bottle (capping it and setting it off to the side) and going through the rest of his lunch bag, Alfred has not left. 

“You want to try some?”

Ivan is about to peel apart the half-assed sandwich he slapped together that morning and is honestly surprised that Alfred is still talking to him. But talking to him he is, and Ivan isn’t really sure what to make of it. He doesn’t know Alfred well enough to actually be friendly with him, but he doesn’t have any bad blood between them so it’s not like they have any reason to be  _ unfriendly _ .

“Wha?” Ivan asks,  _ smartly _ .

“You want some?” Alfred repeats, and he’s smiling his trademark smile at him.

“Um…” He doesn’t really know what to do other than take it and hold it in his hand. “You’re sure?”

“Sure! I mean, why not?”

Well… why not?

Ivan takes a look at the flavor and is surprised, again.

“Vanilla Coke with lime?” he asks. He’s able to hide the horror in his voice, but he isn’t quite sure he’s able to hide the look of it on his face.

If he doesn’t, Alfred doesn’t seem to notice. He only laughs, like he’s used to hearing it, and if this is the drink he’s going to willingly choose, he probably is.

(Suddenly, that perishable water doesn’t sound so bad.)

“I know,” he says. “I know, I get shit for it all the time, but it is good.”

“I think I’m good,” Ivan says, and holds it back for him to take. “Really. Thanks, though.”

But Alfred is persistent. “Come on, a little sip. A little sip will not kill you.”

A shame, Ivan think, and luckily he keeps that himself.

“Please,” Alfred says. “Please, please, please, if I can get just one person to try this out, then I can honestly die a happy man.”

Ivan doesn’t know if he should trust his judgement, there’s still a chance that it could be a prank. But he did see him buy it from the machine, so it’s not like it’s tampered with. If anything it could just be gross. And if he can stomach his mother’s recent meals, well, then…

He unscrews the cap, the carbonation hissing out without hesitation, and holds the bottle close to his lips. He can smell the chemicals and already knows that this is going to be a bad idea. He takes a small sip of it. He instantly regrets.

“That’s disgusting!” Ivan gags and holds it out for him to take. “That is actually, really, gross!”

“I know,” he laughs. “I know it’s, um.. I guess you could say it’s an acquired taste. Or something.”

“Or something.”

“Honestly, it tastes better with fresh lime.”

Ivan stares.

“Do people know you're this weird?”

Alfred only laughs.

And… that's it. Ivan still sits on the hallway floor. Alfred is just standing there, gross soda in hand. And that's it.

“Ivan, right?” he asks.

“Um, yeah.”

“I thought so. You're in my Econ class.”

“Am I?” 

Why is he playing dumb? He knows he is, he can see everyone from the back of the class.

“Yeah. I'm Alfred.” 

He holds his hand out and Ivan takes it, giving it a firm grip and they shake. A strange introduction.

“Well…” Alfred trails off once they seperate. “Good to meet you.”

“Yeah. I… I’ll see ya around?”

Alfred laughs a little at that, but it doesn’t sound mean in any way. He doesn’t really know what it sounds like, other than off.

“Sure thing,” Alfred says, gives him a little cheers with his soda and leaves.

Ivan would say that it’s the strangest thing that’s happened during a lunch hour, but it actually isn’t. Nothing is going to surpass Gilbert with that goose and the cherry pie, but this was a good runner up.

In the end, Ivan goes back to his lunch, and he forgets all about it. Well, for the most part, anyway.

It's after school and Ivan stays late in the library. He's one of the first ones there when regular classes let out, and he's usually the last to leave. He isn't in any clubs and  he isn't on any of the sports teams, so the only way he is able to stay on campus is by making use of the library. He pretends to study, and sometimes he does, but it's mostly him trying to sketch in his notebook.

(He's not very good. But he keeps trying.)

It's getting late though, and the librarian has already come along twice in that passive way of his that means he wants all the kids out so he packs up and readies himself for home. It's more of a mental preparation than anything else.

His footstep echo in the empty hallways, and the lighting is dim now that the sun has long set. A look at his watch shows that it's nearing seven, and not even the athletes would be hanging around. He stayed really late this time round. And maybe… that was for the best.

Call it coincidence, or call it fate. Call it whatever, but what happens next is… unimaginable. Or at least it would have been that morning.

On the way out, Ivan hears footsteps - footsteps other than his own, that is. It shouldn’t be outside of anything normal, there are still teachers wandering around, he’s sure. There’s also the janitor, so really, there isn’t reason for him to go investigating, but he does anyway.

They’re not very far away, they sound like they’re just a corridor over, so he ducks down where he hears it. Sure enough, there’s the source.

It’s Alfred. Walking into the bathroom (normal) with a gym bag in hand (normal) with something that looks like a tarp from the swim club (not normal). Curiosity keeps getting the best of him. Ivan follows after. Quietly though, he’s not sure, but he feels like that is important to do.

It’s like out of a movie - there’s something odd about the way that he moves forward, like it’s slow motion and being show from afar, he swears that he can actually picture the way it looks: himself moving for the bathroom door from some kind of aerial view. Maybe in black and white for the aesthetics. The closer he gets to the door, the more odd the whole thing seems. He can hear the harsh plastic of the tarp being unfolded and then it goes quiet. He’s almost tempted to knock on the door, but it’s a public bathroom. He walks in.

He isn’t prepared at all for what he sees.

The dark blue pool tarp is spread out in front of the stalls and Alfred is sitting on it, with his back against the wall and his sleeves rolled up high. There’s a straight razor in his hand and it’s pressed against his wrist. Obviously, no one is meant to be interrupting this.

“What the fuck?!” Ivan ends up shouting, and several things happen at once.

Alfred’s head shoots up, eyes wide, and then he shoots up. He does it so fast, that the razor slices into side of his wrist, and he cries out. Ivan slams the door shut and rushes over. His first thought is to stop the bleeding as fast as he can, and the only thing that he has on hand is the scarf around his neck, so that comes flying off as fast as possible.

“What’re you doing here?” Alfred is asking, but Ivan isn’t really paying attention.

“We gotta stop the bleeding,” is all Ivan says. “Did you hit the vein?”

“Wha- No, I-I don’t think so? I think I just hit the side of it.”

“Better then, a wrist is hell to stop.”

“I think that’s the point. No, wait, what are you doing here?”

That a good question.

“I was going to use the bathroom,” Ivan lies. There’s no need to let him know what he was really doing.

“And out of all of them, you had to pick the one I was in?” Alfred laughs, and it’s the same as it was before.

“Well, maybe I’m just lucky that way. Hold that.” 

There isn’t a pamphlet, or a guidebook, or anything really, that he could use to figure how to handle this situation out. Ivan knows exactly what it is he just walked in on, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to handle it. He barely knows how to handle his own problems, he has no idea what to do here.

Other than, stop the bleeding.

He lets Alfred hold his scarf down on the wound and goes through his backpack. He doesn’t have first aid kit or anything like that, but he should still have the gauze wrap from when he snapped his finger. He finds it smashed underneath a couple of textbooks, but it’s still good.

“Um, I think you have to hold it up high,” he says to him. “I think that helps stop the bleeding.”

Alfred remains passive, but he does as Ivan tells him to do. He holds his arm up higher. He releases some of the pressure when Ivan tells him to. He shows him the wound when he asks him to.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” says Ivan. “That deep, I mean. I don’t think you hit anything important.”

Does he crack a joke? Does he thank a god he's not sure he believes in? Reprimand him? Counsel him? A mystery….

“Why are you here?

It looks like he doesn't have to be the one to break the ice.

Ivan is wrapping the bandage around Alfred's wrist - the wound is no longer bleeding, it at least not as much as it was, but it's probably better to keep it wrapped up - and he isn't looking at him. Alfred’s eyes are on him, boring into his head, and Ivan still doesn’t really know what to say.

“I needed to go to the bathroom,” he repeats. “I told you that.”

“No, but like… why are you here? Like, still here?”

He ties the gauze tight enough and sits back on his heels. Ivan is in the middle of a boy’s bathroom, kneeling on a tarp splayed out on the floor, just having stopped a very obvious suicide attempt by complete accident, and to be honest, he’s not even sure why.

“It’s just what you do, isn’t it?” he guesses. “I won’t bullshit, I’m pretty sure you’re trying to die in here. Although what a tarp has to do with any of that, I don’t know.”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t want to make too big of a mess, y’know,” Alfred says, sheepishly. “Bad enough to find a body, I didn’t want to like, make them mop up a shit ton of blood too.”

“That’s… actually really considerate.”

“Thanks. I thought so.”

The silence isn’t… awkward. Not exactly, at least. But it isn’t comfortable, and the elephant is still there. Commented on, but not actually resolved. Ivan says as much.

“Look, I don’t know you very well,” Ivan says. “Actually, I don’t really know anything about you at all, other than y’know, you like really gross soda. So, I don’t really know what to say. I don’t know if you would tell me why, and I don’t know if I even have a right to know why. You don’t owe me that, or anything, so… I don’t know why I’m still here. Other than, I guess, it was just an instinct to stop whatever it is that’s happening.”

He finally looks at Alfred. Like, really looks at him. He doesn’t look like the Alfred he’s used to seeing the halls, and from the back of the class. He isn’t bright or shining like he usually is, it’s like the moon has taken over his face instead of the sun, and it’s unsettling to see on someone he doesn’t actually know that well. Or in this case, as he said, not at all.

Alfred doesn’t reply, and it seems like the quiet stretches on between them for ages, when it probably isn’t even that long. All Ivan can think now is, what is the proper etiquette to staying with someone after something like this? Does he have to leave with him? Can he just leave on his own? Say, ‘Keep the gauze, don’t worry about the scarf?’ and leave the bathroom now? Would that make him look like an asshole?

“The season’s over,” Alfred says, suddenly.

“What?”

“The season’s over,” Alfred repeats. “So I figured, that the team wouldn’t need me around now, and there’s plenty of time to fill my spot for next year.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, just what I thought.”

“Well,” Ivan hums. “Don’t take this wrong way, but I think there’s a more fucked up reason behind this than just that.”

That makes Alfred laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, there probably is.”

“Alfred.” Ivan pauses. He thinks his words over carefully. “I don’t know you, and I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if it makes you feel better, I would probably be sad that you killed yourself in the boy’s bathroom.”

“Probably?” Alfred scoffs.

“Well, yeah, I mean, we’re not really friends, but we’ll always have the gross soda we shared, and that was a nice change from spending lunch by myself. So yeah, I would be.”

“I should bring you over to mine so you can try a vanilla coke with fresh lime. Tastes a lot better, I promise.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ivan wrinkles his nose, and Alfred laughs again.

Maybe this was the right thing to do because Alfred looks more relaxed than he was before. He slumps down and relaxes entirely against the wall behind him. The tarp crackles underneath Ivan’s knees as he makes to move next to Alfred. He slumps against the wall with him, and he may be a little out of line with what he wants to show him, but he’s already a loner got the most part, so what does he have to lose?

“Can I show you something?” he asks, softly, and when Alfred nods, he begins to unbutton his blazer.

“You’re not gonna whip your dick out are you?” Alfred asks, and doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “Because I swear you suck a couple of guys off and everyone thinks you can just whip it out to show off or something.”

“What?! No! First of all, no. Second of all, I am sorry, because that is really gross for someone to do. But just gimme a second I promise it’s not weird. Well, not that weird.”

“That’s really reassuring.”

“I mean, well, hold on.”

His blazer comes off and he unbuttons the top of his shirt. Ivan isn’t looking at Alfred directly, but he hears his breathing hitch, knows that he sees it.

It being the dark brown scar left around the base of his throat - a freak accident during a time where he had felt at his lowest and thought that if he angled it just right, he could snap his neck in just one go instead of being left to hang from his ceiling rafters and suffocate slowly. That was his major concern at the time, he just wanted a quick finish. That didn’t work out too well.

He tells Alfred this, in the most conversationalist tone possible. It’s like he was talking about the weather instead of his own suicide attempt.

“So,” Ivan says, “I get it.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Okay, now that’s a little weird.”

“Right. That is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… but, yeah, okay.”

Alfred’s fingers against his bare skin leave a hot trail, and he honestly holds his breath. He hopes his face looks neutral. He doesn’t wanna make this weirder than it already is.

“Do you think this’ll scar?” Alfred asks him, holding up his wrist.

“Probably.”

“Twinsies,” he laughs.

“Not exactly.”

“Fraternal twins, then. Not the identical ones.”

“Works for me.”

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“After all this? No.”

“Why didn’t you try again?”

Ivan finally looks at him. “Who says I didn’t.”

“Did you?”

“No,” he sighs. “I didn’t. Thought about it though.”

“Why not?”

“You want the honest answer?”

“Yeah.”

Ivan gives him a very rare smile. “It sounds stupid, but after I cleaned myself up, cos the rope snapped after awhile, I picked up my room, and when morning came, I went downstairs… and my mom was actually well enough to have made breakfast. She made stuffed waffles. She doesn’t really do that anymore, but when I ate them, I don’t know, just made worth living through the night. They were really good.”

Alfred laughs. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh in a mean way. That’s probably the most wholesome thing I’ve heard in the longest time.”

Ivan laughs with him. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No. No, it’s not. I don’t think so.”

The air has changed between them. Not to say that this one event causes them to be the best of friends, or anything more, but it’s definitely the beginning to something that could run long and even deeper. But that is something that only time and their own decision can decide. In any case, they have certainly made an impression on each other at the very least.

“What’s your favorite food?” Ivan asks him.

“Nothing beats a good burger,” Alfred answers, frankly. “In my opinion.”

“I don’t know why that doesn’t surprise me. But you should go get one.”

“You think a burger is gonna change my mind about all this?”

“No. But it could help.”

“Well… it wouldn’t hurt I guess. I am kinda hungry.”

“Yeah, suicide is hungry work.”

Alfred laughs. Loud.

“No! No, why is that so funny?”

“Welcome to the beginning stages of having a morbid sense of humor.”

“Oh, god.”

Finally, Alfred begins to stand up, and Ivan follows him. Ivan’s blazer goes back on, and Alfred hands him back his scarf.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” he says. “But the way.”

He means the blood, and Ivan just shrugs it off.

“It’s no big deal,” he tells him. “I knows how to get  blood out of things.”

“Something tells me I should be concerned about that, but I feel like it’s a good idea to just let that go.”

Ivan doesn’t reply. He just softly hums and let’s himself enjoy this familiarity that he isn’t sure how long will last.

“Hey,” says Alfred. “This is probably out of the blue, but considering everything… you wanna come with me to get that burger?”

Ivan pauses. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” Alfred shrugs. “I mean, I feel bad about the scarf for one, and you did really help me out here. And I don’t really wanna be alone, but I don’t really wanna call any of my other friends either.”

_ Other friends _ , as opposed to just saying  _ friends _ . Maybe he shouldn’t take as much joy in it as he does, but Ivan is young and whether or not he wants to admit it, he does want a friend at the very least. For the second time, he thinks that maybe the freak accident really was a good thing.

“Okay,” he says. “Yeah, sure.”

And that’s that.

**Author's Note:**

> -if i wanna be honest this was part of a multi fic series called The Suicide Club, but this would have been like the prelude to the main story arc?
> 
> -in this alfred does end up killing himself and the actual suicide club is made up of only matthew and gilbert and it's really just about matthew learning to cope with the death of a sibling more than anything else
> 
> -i never intended to scrap it, it was mostly going to be for therapeutic purposes, but like a lot of things i write, it just got pushed aside for other things. it happens


End file.
